


Behind the scenes

by Evil_Keshi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19014064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Keshi/pseuds/Evil_Keshi
Summary: "On the red sofa this week," Graham exclaimed with his usual cheerfulness and huge smile, arm extended towards the entrance of the set, "Please welcome the two fabulous stars of the new movie,Infiltration, Tormund Giantsbane and Jon Snow!"In which Jon and Tormund are actors who keep their relationship a secret, until the weight of secrecy becomes too heavy a burden.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm so excited to be back with this story for Jon and Tormund, this is a plot I've had in mind for months and I'm really glad I could finally write it down! I'm done with the story so here goes the first part, I'll update the second one next week :) I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> As a side note, I had to come up with a last name for Ygritte: I chose Stahet which, if my Norwegian is correct, means _stubbornness_ or _determination_. I thought it was fitting.

  


"On the red sofa this week," Graham exclaimed with his usual cheerfulness and huge smile, arm extended towards the entrance of the set, "Please welcome the two fabulous stars of the new movie, _Infiltration_ , Tormund Giantsbane and Jon Snow!"

The joyful roar coming from the audience nearly deafened Jon when he came up, smiling and waving a little at the public while Tormund blew kisses all around; he hoped that his smile didn't show his nervousness, as it was his first time on the set of the Graham Norton Show, and watched with envy as Tormund threw himself at Graham to kiss his cheek soundly. It was his friend's third time here and it showed in his comfort and the easy camaraderie with which Graham greeted him.

"Sit down, sit down!" he exclaimed happily, clapping Tormund's shoulder before turning to Jon and engulfing him in a sudden hug while the audience cheered and applauded some more, "Welcome, both of you!"

Graham let him go and gestured them to have a seat so Jon sat down gingerly, almost convinced that the infamous red sofa would bite his ass - Tormund, on the other hand, plopped down next to him without an ounce of grace and that was so _Tormund_ that Jon let out a laugh. He was glad to have the redhead by his side for his first time on the show, reassured at the thought that Tormund would rescue him in a heartbeat if he didn't quite know how to answer a question.

"I can't believe we haven't met before!" Graham told Jon as soon as the audience quietened, "You've been in this industry for, what, three, four years now?"

"It's been three years since... well, the press calls it my big break, so that, I guess?" Jon said with a bit of hesitation.

Ask him to bare his soul and heart in front of a camera and he would do it but speaking in front of so many people and preferably being funny at the same time? Impossible. Tormund was a natural when it came to press, official events, red carpets and interviews, but Jon himself had always been a man who liked to remain in the shadow... which had been harder to achieve lately, since people had started to recognise him in the streets. He couldn't bring himself to regret it though, for acting was all his life and had, in one way or another, brought him all the happiness he needed in his existence.

"You started with a minor role in a TV series and now, you're in a movie with Tormund Giantsbane and Ygritte Stahet!" Graham summed up his journey, his smile wide and contagious, "How crazy is that?!"

"Completely insane," Jon admitted, glancing at Tormund who was grinning at him, showing teeth and pride all at once, "I'm living the dream."

"It didn't seem like it when we first met," the redhead chimed in, his shoulders shaking with laughter, "You looked like a lost kid at the mall."

"Oooh," Graham immediately jumped on that piece of information, like a cat on a mouse. "I smell an interesting story there!"

"You have to imagine it," Tormund started, cackling when Jon rolled his eyes, already knowing what he was about to say, "We shot our first scene at two in the morning, it was pitch dark, it was raining, and Jon here hadn't had any coffee yet."

"And I was covered in fake blood," Jon reminded him.

"Aye! If you've seen the movie already, you know it starts really badly for Arthur..."

"Who is Jon's character, yes," Graham interfered for the benefit of the audience, "Go on."

"So there you have him," Tormund resumed, flashing his co-star a wide and bright smile, "desperate for some coffee, looking like death warmed over, and he didn't dare come to Ygritte and me!"

"I'm actually a shy person," Jon explained, feeling his cheeks colour lightly when Graham cooed, soon followed by his audience. "It's true! I had the chemistry reading with Ygritte since, you know, she plays my boss and girlfriend, but I didn't really know her nor Tormund and I didn't want to bother them."

"Lost kid at the mall," Tormund repeated, "or kicked puppy, whichever you prefer."

"You like puppies," Jon muttered, so low that only the ginger man heard him.

Tormund nodded briefly, a fresh smile dancing on his lips at their private exchange, and he slowly, deliberately raised his arm to rest on the back of the sofa, his fingertips hidden from the cameras and gently stroking the place between Jon's shoulder blades. He could feel him relax a little at the touch, even through his jacket.

"We had to drag him up to our table for our first lunch together," Tormund added, louder, as if he and Jon had not just shared a moment. "Ygritte couldn't believe how shy he was."

"What was it like, sharing the screen with her?" Graham enquired, "Tormund, you've known Ygritte for quite some time now but Jon... First time, right?"

"Yes and that was... impressive," he said, smiling in remembrance. "She can be absolutely terrifying when she wants to be. She's amazing, really, she gives all she has in every scene and... and it's both fun and challenging, because she keeps you on your toes and she forces you to... You know, I really understood who Arthur was thanks to her. I had to push my limits to give a performance that was, I hope, just as raw and honest as hers and I... I am rambling, am I not?"

"Yes, yes," Graham said, his smile bright and wide, "I was wondering if you'd notice! Sounds like you're a bit in love, Jon!"

"Don't say that," Tormund exclaimed with a booming laugh, though perhaps Jon was the only one who caught the hint of possessiveness in his voice. "Look how red he is, now!"

And while Jon had not been aware of blushing, the crowd cheered, joyful and teasing, and he could feel his cheeks actually start to burn. Damn it.

  


  


Jon felt drained when Tormund and he finally climbed into the van late into the night, with the sad perspective of only three short hours of sleep before they had to get up again and catch their plane to Paris for several quick interviews. They'd shot a few scenes of _Infiltration_ in the French capital so it was only fair they went back for the media, though Jon would have preferred to be well-rested before that.

He loved this life but sometimes, he wished he could just oversleep and have no one other than his dog to be mad at him about that - Ghost did love his everyday morning walk around the park, the earlier the better.

"Got a text from Ygritte," Tormund said when the driver pulled onto the road, the engine nearly silent as they slipped into the night, heading for their hotel. "She says if you imply you might be in love with her ever again, she's going to cut your pretty hair while you're asleep."

"I'm innocent!" Jon protested, "You and Graham were the ones to..."

"Aye, aye," Tormund agreed before Jon could even finish his sentence, and he ruffled his curls, "She's teasing you. Says your words meant a lot to her, though I wasn't supposed to tell you that."

Jon snorted and rested his head on Tormund's shoulder, closing his eyes. He smiled when he felt him strain his neck so he could kiss his forehead, his lips gentle and insistent at the same time.

"Sorry I didn't wax poetics on _your_ acting," Jon muttered. "Graham didn't ask."

"We both know you couldn't have said anything anyway," Tormund answered, the self-satisfied smirk on his face audible in his voice as well. "You couldn't say you got a boner every time Duncan growled at Arthur."

Jon would have liked to deny it but... Tormund's deep and breathy voice when he played Duncan in emotionally charged scenes had done things to him, to his heart as well as his body, and while he'd been able to hide it on set, that one day they'd decided to take a moment to read their lines with each other had been... eventful.

"You can sleep," the redhead whispered when Jon yawned, "I'll wake you when we get to the hotel."

"Or you could carry me," Jon mumbled, half-asleep already.

"I could, aye," Tormund laughed, making the shorter man groan when his head was jostled. "Sorry, your majesty."

He didn't answer, too tired for that, but he managed to smile as Tormund slowly took his hand, for no other reason than his desire to feel close to Jon and surround him in his warmth to lull him to sleep. Jon didn't actually fall asleep but he still spent the ride relaxing, his fingers entwined with Tormund's radiating warmth that spread throughout his body. When they arrived, he was so wobbly on his feet that he needed the redhead's help to get out of the car and into the lift of the hotel. He was grateful for the clerk who opened the door for him: with his blurry sight, Jon wasn't sure he would have succeeded in slipping the electronic key card in the slit on his first try.

"Goodnight, Jon," Tormund said as he opened the door of his own room, just across the corridor. "See you tomorrow."

He ended his sentence with a wink that had Jon's heart skip a beat and he nodded feverishly before he closed the door. Leaning against the panel, he focused to the best of his sleepy ability and heard the clerk's footsteps growing fainter as he walked away; twenty seconds later, a door opened and closed with a soft, careful sound, and Jon pulled his own door open before Tormund could even knock.

The redhead didn't hesitate before walking in, his large hand pushing the panel shut behind himself, and he cupped Jon's head into his palms, leaning down until he could kiss him. Jon was tired and still he could feel his body tingle with pleasure and contentment as he returned the embrace, rising on his tippy toe in order to wrap his arms around Tormund's neck. His lips chased his, unhurried and hungry at the same time, and he let out a small whimper when Tormund eventually pulled away.

"Hey," the redhead breathed out, "I missed you."

"You saw me barely one minute ago," Jon laughed against Tormund's puffy lips, eliciting a grin.

"That's too long ago," his boyfriend concluded.

Well, Jon had to agree. Being so close on the set of Graham and forced to be careful not to do or say anything that could give their relationship away, finding a momentary haven inside the van, having to pretend that they were nothing but two colleagues and close friends... That was tiring.

It had been their choice though, when they'd first dived into this: they'd wanted to start just the two of them, taking things slow without hoards of interviewers asking inappropriate questions or paparazzi following them around and spying on their every move. They didn't have to make their relation public, though they knew they would have to at some point, but they weren't afraid. Jon wouldn't lie and pretend that he didn't feel a bit nervous about it, for obviously their careers depended on their audience's reactions and opinions, but he didn't doubt that if it came down to it, even though they loved their life as actors, they would choose each other and not the industry.

Jon laughed quietly when Tormund pushed him towards the huge bed in the middle of the hotel room, taking slow steps with kisses in-between.

"I'm too tired to do anything," Jon warned him, "Sorry."

"I didn't count on it," Tormund answered, unbuttoning Jon's dress shirt, "I just want to sleep next to you."

Jon nodded and let his boyfriend undress him before he did the same for him, and they climbed into the bed in their underwear, after a quick detour to the bathroom to brush their teeth. Jon burrowed underneath the blankets first, while Tormund turned the lights off, and he sighed in satisfaction when he felt Tormund slip in bed as well and tangle their legs together, one of his hands settling onto Jon's hip. They were like two pieces of a puzzle, Jon mused, and he relished the sensation of Tormund's warm skin against his own, their breathings synchronised and their hearts calm and content as they beat together.

"I love you," Tormund whispered in the silence of the bedroom, following his declaration with a kiss on Jon's bare shoulder.

"Me too," Jon thought he heard himself say, although he was too out of it already to make sure he'd said the words loudly enough.

Two seconds later, he was snoring.

  


  


Ygritte welcomed them at Paris-CDG airport the next day, hugging them both as if they hadn't seen one another in years, though they'd met for a night out in Belfast something like one week and a half prior.

"My phone pinged with thousands of notifications all night long, Jon!" she complained as soon as they were out of the terminal, headed for the car she said was waiting for them. "Thousands of comments on my last Instagram post! You know, the one from the last day on set, where we're hugging? They're all asking if we're together."

Jon spluttered, unable to grasp that such an innocent remark from Graham had brought thousands of people to believe that they were in some kind of relationship. He loved Ygritte, he did, because they'd become close friends after his initial shyness had passed but it was nowhere close to the strength of the feelings he had for Tormund - and one day, everyone would know that.

"You should have turned the notifications off," he pointed out, "but sorry it got so out of hand."

"You played lovers on-screen," Tormund said as they got into a car with tinted windows, "It's not so surprising they're willing to bet you're banging off-screen, too."

"Tormund!" Jon exclaimed, mortified that he would say that so shamelessly.

"What?" he asked, his face the model of feigned innocence. "You do like redheads, after all."

"You're lucky I love you," Jon grumbled, which earned him a sound kiss on the cheek.

"Oh no, no, no!" Ygritte immediately protested, "You two don't get to be all lovey-dovey while I'm around, boys! Keep the heart eyes for the bedroom!"

Jon huffed but Tormund didn't really heed her words, taking his boyfriend's hand in his own instead, even going as far as to flash Ygritte a grin, which made her roll her eyes. Jon only smiled, knowing far too well that they loved to push each other's buttons, although that was only and always meant for fun.

They had time for a quick breakfast at the venue where they would give their interviews, crêpes with chocolate, marmalade or sugar, even ham and cheese for whoever preferred to eat something salty, which they washed down with orange juice.

Jon was glad to hear that the reporters had discussed their meeting first and decided not to ask the same questions over and over again, aiming for something fresh and original. On top of that, their press agent told them that the journalists were forbidden to ask anything related to the rumour of a relationship between Ygritte and Jon, which was a relief. If they never mentioned it, perhaps it would die down faster?

The three of them sat on the chairs that had been prepared for them, facing a crowd of journalists that had Jon wiping his suddenly damp hands on his pants. Tormund glanced at him, his gentle gaze sending a message of reassurance and appeasement, and Jon longed to hold his hand, just to ground himself.

Then it started. They were asked to introduce the movie first, which Tormund did with a lot of enthusiasm, and not for the first nor last time, Jon wished he could feel as comfortable as his boyfriend, or even Ygritte, in front of so many people.

" _Infiltration_ begins with this pretty boy," he started, pointing at Jon with a grin, "being beaten into a pulp. So that's fun. He's a police officer who accidentally got tangled in some nasty business of corruption among the higher-ups and he's faced with a choice: either he saves his hide and joins them or he stays true to what he stands for... but that has consequences."

"It's a very right or wrong kind of situation at first," Ygritte added, "but the more you get into the movie, the more you realise that nothing is what it seems. Emma, my character, is Arthur's boss and his girlfriend so she's in a delicate situation but she... She claims she doesn't know what's going on. They both think the other keeps secrets, so that's weighing down on their relationship and really, that's not helping."

"Jon," one of the journalists called when Ygritte was done talking, apparently a bit bothered by his silence, "Could you describe your character using only three words?"

"Three words?" he repeated, "Uh..."

He really should have rehearsed some questions with Tormund and Ygritte before. He had a lot to say about Arthur, so much that he might actually never shut up about him if he was given the chance to speak freely but three words?

"Pain in the ass," Tormund grunted.

"That's four words," Ygritte pointed out, raising a brow.

Jon shot them a grateful glance, thankful for their banter while he was digging into the depths of his brain to come up with something that would both be true and original.

"Stubborn, I'd say," he started, "Charming, too, and... resourceful."

"Nice way to put it," Ygritte shot back with a smirk, obviously knowing what Jon meant with that.

He couldn't speak about it in details though, or he'd risk spoiling the movie for those who had not seen it yet - something he definitely didn't want to do. Actors and directors had worked hard to preserve the secrets of the plot so he wasn't about to ruin it by running his mouth.

"You've played Romeo-like roles before," another reporter said, "Was the role of Arthur any different?"

"Yes," Jon answered with a nod, feeling more at ease now that they were talking about what he knew, for he'd experienced it firsthand. "I played the romantic hero a few times, in roles where it's about abnegation and sacrifice, selflessness. Arthur is more... mature, in a way. He knows his life isn't determined by his love for Emma - especially when it starts going downhill. He's more than one half of a couple, the movie explores him as an individual too. So he's allowed to be selfish, to make decisions for himself and be an asshole, which was a nice change."

"Tormund, how does your character fit in that storyline?"

"Well, he smashes Arthur's pretty face into the ground so I'd say he fits perfectly."

Jon looked down while the journalists laughed and he pretended to scratch his beard to hide the blush he could feel creeping high on his cheeks. It was the second time Tormund mentioned his _pretty face_ and Jon really had to focus, to keep Ygritte's words at the front of his mind so he didn't show just how much he wanted to kiss his boyfriend right there and then. There would be a better time for heartfelt declarations of love, once they were alone in the privacy of a bedroom - or at the back of a car or during a bathroom break, even on an elevator, when Jon would hold onto Tormund, pretending he needed to keep his balance. He'd learned to seize every opportunity to show or tell his boyfriend just how much he was loved.

Once they were done answering the official questions, more came about them as a group on a set. Who forgot their lines the most? Who loved to prank people? Jon felt obligated to point at his friends then, who'd enjoyed putting glue on the handle of his trailer door or whipped cream in his palm while he was sleeping, before they tickled his nose. Jon had framed the resulting picture of his own face covered in cream, with Tormund and Ygritte sticking their tongues out on each side of him, just enough to get a taste. They were asked their favourite music bands, favourite movies, favourite actors, and all other sorts of favourites Jon had not been aware he even had in the first place. He liked it though, because some of these questions were unusual and he had to think about his answers rather than blurt out something that had been rehashed time and time again, to the point that he was even a little sad when the session was brought to an end.

They didn't finish it without posing for a few pictures though, and Jon's smile grew bigger than it had been all morning as he was finally - finally! - allowed to touch his boyfriend. He splayed his palm across his back as they gathered for a group picture, and he relished into the feeling of Tormund's muscles underneath the polo shirt he was wearing, even as he put his free arm around Ygritte's waist. They smiled as dozens of cameras were lifted in front of them and Jon was pretty sure his grin was splitting his face in half, making him look ridiculous, but he really couldn't care less. He felt too happy to worry about that.

  


  


Jon only realised the next day that a simple, spontaneous gesture on his part was turning out to be a mistake when he woke up to a text from Arya, telling him not to open Twitter. That was worrying in itself and he would have complied, trusting his sister to know what he wanted or didn't want to see on the Internet, if his brain had not been sluggish with sleep still. Before he could fully understand what his fingers were doing, he'd tapped the bird app, opening a dam to thousands of notifications that he didn't have the time to read, for his eyes quickly zeroed in on the hashtag most of the tweets included. #CongratsJonAndYgritte.

_What?_

Jon let out a sound of disbelief as he saw the pictures accompanying several tweets, and he didn't realise that the mountain of blankets next to him was moving until two strong arms circled his waist and a beard came tickling his ribs as his boyfriend slowly peppered his side with kisses.

"Did I wake you?" Jon asked, turning away from his phone for a moment so he could take hold of Tormund's right hand and kiss his knuckles.

"Kind of," the redhead mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep and laced with lazy contentment as Jon didn't release his hand but entwined their fingers. "What's up?"

"I'm apparently engaged to Ygritte," the young man answered between gritted teeth, handing his phone to Tormund when he opened wide eyes. "Look at that."

His boyfriend manoeuvred his tall body so that he could lie on his belly, his head resting on Jon's chest and his eyes narrowed in an attempt to see something on the screen that was a bit too bright to his taste.

"The fuck is that?" he grumbled, pointing at the pictures.

The pictures from the previous day, where Jon was holding onto Ygritte's waist and smiling like he would die of happiness, the former not being cause for the latter. The worst, of course, was the engagement ring that seemed to have been added onto her finger and in order to perfect the illusion, Tormund had even been cut out of the picture. With only the two of them standing side by side and him grinning like a fool, it did look like they'd just officialised their engagement... Hence the hashtag. Jon was furious.

So it came as a shock when Tormund started laughing, a deep rumble echoing against Jon's ribcage, and he poked his boyfriend's shoulder with more strength than necessary.

"This isn't funny," he said.

"It kinda is," Tormund shot back, rolling over so that he could see Jon's face, raising his hand to banish a few wayward curls behind his ear.

Jon leaned into the touch on instinct, almost nuzzling into his large palm. How were they supposed to have a serious conversation when Tormund kept melting his heart like this?

"It's disrespectful," Jon managed to add once he'd gotten back on track. "To Ygritte and to us."

"Yeah," Tormund agreed, "but they don't know about _us_. And I'd rather read that you're engaged to Ygritte than logging into Twitter and seeing serious allegations that, true of false, could ruin you."

Alright. Maybe he had a point.

"So it doesn't bother you?" he asked quietly, suddenly ashamed to be the only one making a huge deal out of this.

"Not really," Tormund confessed, "because I don't give a fuck about this kind of rumours. Not just because it's Ygritte and I know her, it could be anyone else... I trust you, Jon. I think you would have told me if you'd gone and gotten engaged behind my back."

Jon snorted. As if he would ever want to marry someone who wasn't Tormund... His brain short-circuited at the sudden realisation and he looked down at his boyfriend with wide eyes, so wide that Tormund tilted his head in worried confusion.

"Love...?" he whispered, "What's wrong?"

Wrong? Nothing was wrong, Jon thought. He'd never felt happier. It wasn't like it had never crossed his mind that he wanted to spend his life with Tormund but he'd never taken the time to understand what he truly wished for his - their - future... and Jon wanted all of him, always and forever. Waking up in his arms when they wouldn't be in different countries for shooting, coming home to him at the end of the day, lazing on the couch with Ghost while Tormund attempted to cook something decent in nothing but his underwear... The hushed whispers of love, the scent of Tormund's cologne on his pillow, their stupid arguments over who had put the empty jar of marmalade back into the fridge or even their serious ones, their hands joining and never letting go as they made love, he wanted all of it.

"Jon?"

"I'm fine," he finally answered his boyfriend, his voice a bit rough. "Just thinking about how much I love you."

Tormund nearly purred in contentment at the words and Jon decided to forget all about the rumours in order to enjoy this morning in Paris with his boyfriend. They wouldn't leave before the next day and they didn't have any press conference scheduled so Tormund, Ygritte and he would finally have a day to play the perfect tourists, relax and bask in one another's presence. He wondered if perhaps they could go to the Louvre and when he asked aloud, Tormund laughed.

"What?" Jon enquired, his brows furrowed.

"Nothing," his boyfriend answered, the glint in his eyes telltale enough for Jon to know that he was about to say something incredibly stupid - or cheesy. "Wonder what use it is though, when I have the most beautiful piece of art right here in my arms."

Well, Jon thought as he hid his blushing face into Tormund's neck, cheesy it was.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this first part, please feel free to share your thoughts with me, I'd love to know what you think so far! Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody, here comes the second chapter! Thank you very much for your enthusiastic feedback on the first part, it made me so happy to read all your positive comments! I hope you'll enjoy this part as well ;)

  


It took a few weeks but the rumours eventually died down, although neither Jon nor Ygritte did anything to deny them: they figured it wouldn't do much good... People would say they were trying to keep their relationship a secret and see their protestations as proof that they were dating - go figure. Jon had learned to listen to his sister when she texted him warnings against checking this or that website, which fortunately didn't happen too often, but he couldn't pretend that this whole situation wasn't taking its toll on him.

He was fine when Tormund was around, feeling comfy in their bubble of intimacy and happiness, but... It wasn't enough anymore. He wanted their bubble to spread, he craved to feel the same confidence he experienced in his or Tormund's flat - which had both become _theirs_ anyway since they shared each other's place more often than not, depending on their schedule and whether they crashed in South or North England at nightfall - in other venues as well.

Jon longed for freedom. Going out as a couple instead of friends, kissing each other in the street instead of holding back even the smallest display of affection, not caring if there were people around while they argued at the store on whether they should buy the simple, striped bath mat or the one that read _get naked_...

The young man was alone with Ghost that night, trying to focus on a book he'd meant to read months ago while he waited for Tormund to come back from the gala evening he'd been invited to. The card mentioned a plus-one he could bring... Yet Jon was home, one hand lost in Ghost's white fur, the other keeping his book open, and he suddenly realised that he had been staring at the same word for the last ten minutes, perhaps even more. A wonder he had not fallen asleep. Jon heaved a deep, tired sigh as he closed the book and put it down on the coffee table, where his tea lay cold and forgotten. Oops.

He stood up from the couch and rolled his shoulders back before he went looking for his phone, hoping to find a text from Tormund telling him he'd be back soon. He smiled when he found two, both equally short, sent little less than fifteen minutes ago. _Leaving now_. _Love you_. Feeling lighter and far more awake all of a sudden, Jon went back to the living-room with his phone and nearly tripped over Ghost as he typed a reply, his impatience to see his boyfriend again crystal clear in his words. He poured his cold tea in the sink to hide the fact that he'd been pitifully moping on the couch without Tormund - and he would know, because that tea was Jon's go-to drink when in need of comfort, not to mention the wrappers from the chocolate he'd been eating.

Tormund would be back soon, though probably not before fifteen or twenty more minutes, so Jon sat cross-legged on the couch, fiddling with his phone, debating what to do to stay awake while he waited for his boyfriend. It was past one o'clock already so he ruled out phone calls to his siblings and closest friends, although he had an inkling Sam might still be awake. The poor soul was probably busy studying for his law finals however, so Jon wasn't going to disturb him.

He hadn't planned to but eventually, Jon checked official Twitter and Instagram accounts for pictures of his boyfriend at the gala and his chest filled with warmth and pride when he came across several shots of Tormund on the red carpet, perfectly at ease amidst the celebrities and looking gorgeous as ever. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe how lucky he was that this man, funny, easygoing and extrovert as he was, was in love with his shy, quiet and brooding self... They made it work though and Jon knew he had unlocked Tormund's more caring and softer side, while Tormund had discovered the secret to make him laugh and...

And Jon's little smile vanished when he found the next picture. Well, the picture in itself wasn't the cause to his sudden distress: Tormund was laughing, Brienne of Tarth by his side and really, it wasn't that surprising that these two had made a beeline for each other at the gala, not when you knew they'd stared together in a movie a few years back... The comments next to the picture, however, made Jon's stomach churn. His eyes prickled.

Variations of _my favourite celebrity couple!_ and _when is the wedding?_ not to forget the _about time Brienne found a man tall enough for her_ or even the simple _I'm so happy for them!_ were all over the comment section, as well as links to a few articles with catchy titles about two old friends reconnecting and displaying _obvious_ romantic feelings. Jon felt his throat dry up, a painful lump stuck in the middle as he kept reading and suddenly, it was too much.

Ghost gave out a distressed whine when Jon started to cry in silence, brutally overwhelmed by all the comments wishing the happy couple all the best, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and crashing onto Ghost's wolfish head as he put his paws on Jon's knees, bumping his forehead against his chin to comfort his sad human.

The pictures weren't even responsible for his tears. Tormund and Brienne were friends and there was nothing wrong with that but still, it hurt like he was stabbed with dozens of knives all aiming for his heart, because... it could have been him. It _should_ have. He should have stood by Tormund's side on the red carpet, he should have been holding his hand as they were ushered to their seats - and, if he hadn't been able to attend, he should not have seen that people were wishing his boyfriend happiness with another person.

The sudden jiggle of keys outside the apartment made Jon look up and Ghost whined low in his throat as he padded to the door, no doubt to welcome Tormund first and then proceed onto grabbing his sleeve and dragging him to his crying boyfriend. Crap, he didn't want Tormund to see him like this and worry...So Jon sniffled, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and tried to take a deep breath.

"Aye, aye, Ghost, I'm happy to see you too," he heard his boyfriend grumble in the hall, before his footsteps grew louder as he walked toward the living-room.

He was a sight for sore eyes, Jon thought as soon as he saw him, dressed in a deep blue tux with silver cufflinks that he was attempting to take off, Ghost headbutting his calves to propel him forward. Tormund, on the other hand, must have thought that Jon looked awful as he took in his red eyes, his heartbroken expression, and the occasional weak sob rocking his body.

"Jon..." Tormund whispered as he approached him carefully, the cufflinks vanishing from his mind at once. "What happened, love?"

"Nothing," Jon managed to utter when his boyfriend gathered him in his arms. "I'm... It's nothing."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me it's nothing," Tormund growled, nodding as his lover didn't answer, and he glanced at the phone still in Jon's lap. "Your family?"

"N... No," Jon stammered, closing his eyes as tears of shame spilled, burning on his skin as they made their way down to his lips: he hated that he was the reason behind Tormund's concern. "They're fine, we're all fine... I missed you, that's all."

The redhead pulled a face, not buying it for one second, but still he didn't call him out on his partly fake explanation - after all, Jon _had_ missed him. He cupped the shorter man's face in his hands, tutted at the glistening tracks on his cheeks and let his lips wander down to Jon's mouth.

"I'm here," Tormund whispered against his lips, close but not enough to make it pass as a kiss. "I'm right here, with you."

"I know," Jon whispered, before he tugged onto the lapels of Tormund's tuxedo, "but I need you closer."

Tormund went willingly - if he had resisted, Jon knew he wouldn't have been able to make him move an inch - and he met Jon's lips in a wet, salty kiss. Jon could still feel his worry, in the tension of his shoulders and the guardedness in their embrace, as if Tormund was scared to hurt him if he wasn't careful enough.

"I want you," Jon made his intentions clear, "I _need_ you."

"Come on, then," Tormund said, breaking their embrace and taking a few steps back, his hand reaching out for Jon's. "Not here."

Jon nodded feverishly and grabbed his hand, not bothering to point out that there had been times before when they hadn't waited to have a bed at their disposal: it wouldn't have changed Tormund's mind, not when he'd understood that Jon wasn't as peachy as he pretended to be. Tormund wanted him to feel comfortable as well as to give him time to gather his thoughts and calm down. Still, Jon tripped all over himself to follow his boyfriend to their bedroom, closing the door behind him so that Ghost wouldn't interrupt at the most inopportune moment.

His blood was boiling with desire, strong and heady, and he needed Tormund, needed to be held and to feel him close and tangible, real, not like a dream gone come morning.

"Careful," Tormund grunted when Jon tugged a bit too hard on his shirt, "This tux is Armani. I'm supposed to give it back in one piece."

So Jon let him do it, didn't protest when Tormund swatted his hands away and proceeded onto undressing the both of them, slowly. He revelled into the sound of their clothes sliding off, into the reassuring strength of Tormund's hands as they mapped his body, traced the veins on his pale skin and tugged him closer and closer, until Jon's whole being was wrapped into Tormund's.

Oddly, even as his breathing quickened and his body quivered in pleasure, Jon started to feel calmer instead of dreading a breakdown, anchored in the reality of their love by Tormund's tight embrace. Once Tormund was deep inside him, hips held in place by Jon's strong thighs, he slowed down for a moment, eager to make it last, and he traced Jon's left eyebrow before he followed along his cheek and down to his jaw, as if mesmerised. Surging up, Jon cupped his face to place a long, languid kiss on his lips.

"I'm yours," he whispered in the silence that was only troubled by their heartbeats, losing himself into Tormund's blue eyes.

"Aye, you're mine," his lover confirmed, "as I'm yours."

It sounded like a promise, sealed with a kiss, and it was everything Jon had needed to hear. Their hands found each other's when Tormund started to move inside him, deep and slow, driving them both crazy as each pant found an echo in the other's broken voice, each moan its answering plea, until neither of them could make a sound anymore.

Bodies heavy with exertion but light with lingering pleasure, they met in the middle of the bed, tangled together and not fully able to imagine how they would manage to get up in the morning. Jon quickly gave up on finding a way: for all he cared, they could stay like this forever, especially if Tormund kept playing with his hair.

The gentle pace of his fingers running through Jon's curls was appeasing but Jon could tell that Tormund himself wasn't completely relaxed. His silence proved it, since Jon knew that if he'd not been concerned with anything, Tormund would have either been snoring already or kissing words of love into Jon's skin. However, he wasn't doing either of these two things and Jon suddenly understood that the redhead was waiting, quiet but present and ready to listen once he would finally decide to share whatever had ruined his mood before.

He should have known that Tormund would insist, although he had a knack for not using words, and that there was no universe in which his lover would see him cry and let it go. He cared too much about Jon to accept a too easy, insincere _it's nothing_. So Jon told him.

"I want to come out and go public," he whispered, mumbled really, biting his lip as soon as the words left his mouth.

To his credit, Tormund didn't jerk away from him, didn't react like hearing Jon voice out what he truly wanted was a bad surprise. They had discussed secrecy when they started dating, one year and a few weeks ago, but they had never talked about the moment it should end. Now that Jon had made his own stance clear, he hoped Tormund wouldn't think he wanted to take the decision out of his hands.

"If you want to," he added, sheepish. "It's not just about me, it's..."

"You saw my pictures with Brienne, didn't you?" Tormund interrupted him, sudden understanding dawning upon him.

"Yes," Jon admitted, looking down to his boyfriend's chest, unwilling to see disappointment in his eyes. "I... I'm not mad at her or you and I'm not jealous. It's like you said, when it was Ygritte and me... I love you and I know you love me. I just..."

Jon trailed off dejectedly, feeling like he was blabbering and delivering utter nonsense, unable to find the words to explain himself. Still, Tormund chuckled and pushed his chin up, coaxing Jon into staring at him to see the smile on his lips.

"You're tired of hiding," he told his boyfriend, expressing Jon's thoughts better than he had himself, "and so am I."

"You... Really? But..." Jon stammered, his eyes wide, "You never said anything..."

"Because I didn't know how you felt about it," Tormund confessed, "and I wanted to give you time. You're younger than me and you haven't been in this industry for as long as I've been..."

"But I know what I want," Jon shot back, his previous bewilderment turning into stubborn determination now that he was certain they were on the same page. "I want you."

"You have me," Tormund assured him, his fingers still in Jon's hair pressing down to bring him closer, cuddling him against his chest. "All of me."

Jon rolled them over until he was on top of his boyfriend, his smile taking up half of his face, and he pecked Tormund's lips.

"How do we do it, then?" he asked, "When? I need to talk to Mormont..."

"Your agent will tell you the same thing Mance told me," Tormund answered before Jon could get too excited, "We have to wait."

"You already talked to Mance?" Jon repeated, confusion in his voice and expression. "But..."

Of course their agents were aware of their relationship, just like a few selected other people. Ygritte had been the first to know, because she was smart and observant, and she'd found them out in the blink of an eye. Then, Jeor Mormont and Mance Rayder had been the obvious people the actors felt obligated to talk to, for neither of them could have kept this a secret from the very men responsible for their success and wellbeing in the industry...

Still, Jon had no idea that his boyfriend had already mentioned the possibility of officialising their relation to Mance.

"I talked to him when the rumours about you and Ygritte started," Tormund explained. "Told him we were serious and neither of us would spend our lives in other women's shadow."

"What did he say?" Jon asked, his heart beating too fast, echoing in his ears.

"He's fine with it but he thinks we have to wait before making an official statement," Tormund grunted, "and I'm pretty sure Mormont will tell you the same if you ask _him_."

"What? Why? If he's fine with it..."

" _Infiltration_ is nominated for a BAFTA Award."

Jon froze. _Infiltration_ , their very own movie, was...

"What?" he squeaked.

"Surprise, love," Tormund snorted, booping Jon's nose.

"You... You've known for _weeks_ and you didn't tell me!" Jon shrieked, "You asshole!"

"Hey!" Tormund protested, though his eyes were shining with mirth as he flipped Jon over, "I wasn't supposed to tell you! Official nominations only come out this week..."

Speaking of coming out, Mance's request for delaying their statement made a whole lot more sense now... While the film industry prided itself in being more and more accepting and open-minded, they both knew it was mostly to keep up appearances: if Tormund and he came out before the winners were decided, they might compromise the chances of their movie at winning anything. It was unfair and Jon hated it but he could not - and would not - risk to sabotage _Infiltration_ when so many people had worked hard to make it the best they could.

"I wish we didn't have to wait," Jon mumbled as he nestled deeper into the pillow.

"I know..."

Tormund trailed off, his large hand sliding up and down Jon's body, fingertips following the line between his shoulder blades and the small of his back, where they stopped to caress the soft skin there.

"I was thinking..." he said again after a few instants of quiet intimacy, "Mance said we should wait before making an official statement... but he didn't say anything about _unofficial_ statements."

Jon twisted to look at his boyfriend, his dark eyes full of wonder.

"What do you mean?" he asked with interest, although his next words came out sounding like defeat already, "We can't just have it our way and jeopardise the movie..."

"Yeah," Tormund agreed, although he wasn't done yet, "but what if we dropped hints here and there? Nothing too revealing, just enough to cut short all rumours and for it to make sense once we go public."

Jon only needed a few seconds to imagine it. Oh, the possibilities!

"I love you so much," he breathed out, before he tugged Tormund down for a kiss, fingers tangling in his beard and hair, and if they laughed like idiots while they made love again, feeling giddy at the thought of the best that was yet to come, it was no one's business but theirs.

  


  


"Can you explain?" Mormont asked Jon a few days later as he threw an open magazine on the desk between them.

Pretending not to know what this was all about, Jon feigned deep interest and then, surprise, as he put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward to see the contents of the magazine, one that specialised in getting the celebrities rumour mill running. A double page was dedicated to the BAFTA Awards and listed all the nominated movies and actors, including _Infiltration_ ; there was a picture next to the synopsis of the movie and Jon knew _that_ was what Mormont was talking about, more specifically.

Beaming at the photographer as if he'd wanted his picture to be taken (which might have been _only slightly_ possible), Tormund was walking Ghost on an early morning, his hair wild and his eyes shining with mischief. Ghost was trotting freely next to him, his tongue lolling to the side, while the full length of the leash was curled into Tormund's hand, useless. Jon had been preparing breakfast at the time, while the two loves of his life were enjoying their early run around the park not too far from Jon's.

"That," Jon said slowly, as if missing the point, "appears to be my dog."

"And?" Mormont prompted him, eyebrows raised.

"My boyfriend."

"Exactly. So?"

"So, what?" Jon asked, paragon of innocence as he blinked, looking at his agent with the best puppy expression he could muster. "He went for a run with Ghost that one morning."

"Which clearly shows that he spent the night at your place," Mormont concluded, turning a bit red in the face, "This is..."

"...nothing the reporters cared about," Jon finished with a smile, pointing at the picture. "Look, the comment says _It is always great to witness co-stars becoming friends off-screen and keeping in touch with each other after shooting_. If it had been Ygritte walking Ghost, the comments would have been about fucking, not two dudes being friends!"

"As if fucking wasn't involved that night," Mormont grunted, startling a bark of laughter out of Jon, "Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I just want you both to be careful."

"We are," Jon told him seriously, grateful for his agent's understanding and concern about them. "I promise. He is too important to me, I won't take this lightly."

Mormont let out a sigh and nodded, shooing Jon out of his office a few seconds later with one last stern warning not to go overboard and leak pictures of themselves in bed. When Jon pointed out that it wasn't his style to take such photographs in the first place, his agent just answered _Tormund's, though?_ and the young actor left the office with the tips of his ears burning hot.

  


  


Tormund and he made the best out of the time allotted to them before the BAFTA Awards: between promotional interviews, shootings and premieres in some countries where the movie was released later than it had been in the UK, they tried to seize every opportunity they were getting to feed their social media accounts.

Pictures of Ghost and Tormund started to appear more and more often on Jon's Instagram page, which he'd seldom used before, while Tormund shared short throwback videos from their days on set - always including Jon is some way, whether they'd been training at the gym, practicing with the guns or just chilling between scenes. These videos seemed rather inconspicuous compared to Jon's posts, for they showed the other actors of _Infiltration_ as well, like Ygritte (who quickly realised what they were doing and called them one night to tell them they had balls and she loved them for that.)

Jon was appalled to see that apparently, Tormund laughing next to Brienne or him hugging Ygritte seemed more suspicious than him suddenly posting tons of pictures of his dog and his _close_ friend, which he'd never done before, not even with his actual _best_ friend. However, the day Tormund shared a shot of their plates, focused on the food so that not even their hands on the table were visible, reactions were quick to arrive and finally, the people's interest was sparked.

" _Dinner for two_ with two tiny hearts?" Jon said when he saw Tormund's post, looking up from his phone with amusement plastered all over his face. "You, using heart emojis? That's... never happened before."

"That's why it's working!" Tormund exclaimed, "Read the comments! They all say I'm whipped!"

"That's not exactly a compliment," Jon pointed out.

"Maybe not," he conceded, "but... Oh, look at this one! _Whoever your special person is must be very lucky_. That's sweet."

"And true," Jon added in a whisper, that Tormund was quick to muffle against his lips.

  


  


Tormund also gave the coup de grâce, two days before the BAFTA Awards ceremony that they would both attend, along with Ygritte and part of the crew that had worked on _Infiltration_.

They were in bed, ready to sleep huddled together in a mess of limbs as usual when clanging echoed through the apartment, coming from the kitchen. Jon groaned, guessing Ghost had once again put his paw into his water bowl and proceeded onto turning it upside down, spilling water everywhere. Ready to kick the blanket off of him to paddle barefooted into the kitchen and clean up Ghost's mess, Jon halted when Tormund's hand sneaked around his wrist.

"Stay in bed," he said, "I'll go. I need some water anyway."

Jon nodded gratefully but he still let out a noise of protest at the way the mattress dipped when Tormund rolled around to get up. In a way, however, he was glad that his boyfriend was doing the work that night, because Jon would have hated to get out of bed now that he was buried under the warm blanket, eyes closed and nearly asleep already... He'd had a long day, between half-hearted reproaches from Mormont at the insane amount of comments and likes on his last picture where Ghost was asleep on Tormund's legs and his audition for an upcoming, historical drama. He had a good feeling about it, maybe not for the main role, but he knew he wouldn't hear anything from the casting team for at least two or three weeks.

Exhausted, even more so when he remembered that the BAFTA Awards would take place soon, Jon grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to his ears, legs bent and back turned on Tormund's side of the bed so they could spoon once he'd be back in the bedroom. He vaguely heard his returning footfalls but when his boyfriend didn't come to bed at once, Jon focused just a tiny bit more and caught a shutter sound.

"Wha'r you doin'?" he mumbled, sighing in satisfaction when Tormund's thick body settled behind him.

"Picture of you," he answered in his ear, tickling him, "Do you think I can put it on Instagram? It would be bolder than what we've done so far."

"Let me see," Jon said, giving up on sleeping for five more minutes.

He had to blink a few times so his eyes would adjust to the light of the screen, dim but still brighter than the darkness of their bedroom, and then he looked at himself. Well, his curls, mostly. His face was hidden by the blanket he was still gripping in his hand and really, all the picture actually showed was a mess of dark curls stark against a beige pillow... Jon wasn't sure anyone would recognise him with that picture only but if their fans compared it with the others they had recently posted on both of their accounts, maybe they could put two and two together. Maybe it was risky. Maybe Jon's tired brain liked risky.

"Do it," he decided before he could change his mind, "We don't have to hide."

Tormund chuckled against his neck and took his phone back, his fingers working fast as he opened the app and completed his post.

Jon would only see it in the morning, after falling asleep to the sound of Tormund putting his phone onto the bedside table and shuffling down the bed to wrap his arms around his slender waist. Tormund had written only one word to go with the picture, no heart and no smile next to it, for it was enough in itself.

 _Home_.

  


  


(Mormont wasn't pleased. _I will murder you, Snow!_ he screamed on the phone the next morning, sounding like he was about to have a stroke, and he only calmed down a little when Jon helped him notice on _whose_ Instagram account the picture had been posted. Mormont called Mance. Mance called Tormund. He was less uptight about it all than Jon's agent but he, too, promised murder if they ever did something like that again.)

  


  


"I say you're right to go after what you want," Ygritte told them in the limo driving them to the BAFTA red carpet. "If producers don't want you after that, if you're treated any differently than before, then we'll expose them. You won't be alone in this."

"Thanks," Jon muttered, wringing his hands as they arrived closer and closer to the venue, endless lines of people already queuing up along the driveway.

"Relax," Tormund told him, resting his hand on Jon's thigh and squeezing him for comfort. "You'll be fine."

Easy to say, for someone who wasn't attending for the first time ever... At least he would walk onto the red carpet with both of his friends instead of being on his own, which would have made him feel terribly awkward. Still, even the prospect of going out of the car with Ygritte and Tormund wasn't enough to reassure him in full: he felt a bit nauseous, his stomach ready to flip, his soul about to leave his body. He knew it didn't show, Tormund had already told him that he handled his stress better than he seemed to think... No one could see him shake but he definitely felt his legs wobble at the mere thought of leaving the quiet safety of the limo.

And then the car stopped. Through the tinted windows, Jon could see the photographers and reporters ready with their mics, as well as the red carpet... Goodness. It seemed to know no end.

Ygritte flashed him a bright, encouraging smile and then she was off, her long legs effortlessly slipping out of the car to carry her with elegance under the spotlights and the flashes, her joy to be there genuine and carefree as she waved at a few fans screaming her name. Jon looked away from her, a tiny bit in awe, and glanced at Tormund.

"You can do this," the ginger man reminded him. "You're Jon fucking Snow."

"Yeah," Jon snorted, before his face lit up as an idea popped in his mind, "Hey... Winners are already decided by now, right?"

"They'd better be," Tormund answered, clueless, "It would be bad for them to hesitate on stage... Why?"

Jon's only reply was to hold out his hand, palm open and fingers spread in an invitation for Tormund, who gaped as he understood his meaning, the implicit but determined question, and the redhead suddenly perked up, looking like this was the best day of his life - if Jon had his way, however, he would give the redhead plenty of other _happiest days _in their life together.__

____

"Our agents will kill us both," Tormund said even as he grinned and took Jon's hand, his fingers fitting perfectly between his.

"Not today," Jon shot back with a giddy smile that Tormund thought made him look even more gorgeous than usual. "It would be bad publicity for the BAFTA."

Tormund snorted but was quick to go back to business, excited like a kid in a toy store.

"Go on then," he said, motioning for him to step out of the car with his free hand, while his other still held tight onto Jon's, "Less talking, more coming out."

So Jon did just that. Anxiety still there but buried underneath the certainty of Tormund's fingers entwined to his, he stepped onto the red carpet with the love of his life by his side, holding his hand as they both made a silent statement. Nothing changed for a few seconds, as the photographers gave up on following Ygritte inside to focus on the newcomers on the red carpet and then...

Then, eyes widened, fans screamed, and flashes started to go off all around as dozens of mics were pointed at their faces by rapacious journalists, seeking a word with _the_ highlight of the evening. It was amazing, Jon thought as Tormund tightened his grip on his hand with pride, how much he didn't care about the reactions they would get: they were doing this for themselves, not for the world.

He'd never imagined they could make it this far and yet there they were, smiling down at astonished reporters, confident in their relationship, fearless, and Jon's heart was beating so fast and hard he felt like it would burst.

Questions fused from everywhere, asking for clarifications - but what more did they need? They were holding hands already, they weren't going to rip each other's clothes apart now, were they? That, they would keep for the bedroom - or the kitchen, the living-room, or really, any room with an horizontal surface... Though not necessarily.

Ignoring the _What does this mean for your relationship with Ygritte?_ and others _Is this a joke between mates?_ which prompted a feral growl from Tormund, they tried to notice the questions that were actually focusing on their movie - _Are you nervous about tonight's results?_

"Competition is tough," Jon answered, glad to have something to do other than controlling his facial expressions upon hearing some reporters' nonsense, "There are lots of wonderful, touching movies nominated tonight and _Infiltration_ being one of those is reward enough for the hard work that has been done, whether it wins or not."

"He hopes we'll win anyway," Tormund interfered, his words followed by raucous laughter when Jon tried to elbow him in the ribs.

Tormund might play the tough guy, perfectly comfortable with all the questions coming their way but Jon didn't think he imagined the relief on his face when a security guard steered them towards more photographers and away from the interviewers, although he had no doubt that they would keep discussing what had just happened...

It all felt surreal as Jon walked up the red carpet for more pictures, blinking as more flashes went off, and Tormund eventually let go of his hand. The shorter man barely had the time to panic - what if Tormund regretted what they'd just done? - for his boyfriend wrapped his arm around his waist to pull him close, his gaze fierce as if challenging anyone to make a negative comment on their relationship - Jon was certain that Tormund would not have resisted the temptation to punch the culprit.

He didn't have to hit anyone, thankfully, and Jon walked inside the Royal Albert Hall in a daze, unable to fully comprehend everything that was happening, what with the general excitement about the Awards and the newfound couple both. Ygritte ran to them, her smile bright and her arms spread wide to hug them, and _that_ was when Jon started to truly realise what Tormund and he had done. They'd just gone public - and viral, most likely - and Jon was suddenly overwhelmed with all it meant for them: no more hiding, no more secrets touches and glances, no more fear to betray too many feelings or emotions...

Maybe Jon failed at hiding his happy grin then, but it didn't matter anymore. Maybe there was also a spring in his step that had not been there before but really, who would blame him for feeling so elated as he and Tormund took their seats, side by side and still holding hands? In the long run, no one but them would remember these little moments that were happening in public but still only belonged to the both of them.

People would remember Jon's tears however, when _Infiltration_ won for Best British Film, and the way Ygritte laughed at him as she hugged him tight, even though her own eyes looked too shiny. Still she was too stubborn to let her tears fall and she preferred to mock Jon instead, but he couldn't care for long, not when Ygritte released him to push him into Tormund's arms.

Six months ago, they would have hugged for a few moments like two friends, fingers lingering on a shoulder, in the small of the other's back... Tonight was a new chapter in their story, an ode to their love, and Tormund didn't hesitate, just like Jon didn't recoil when the redhead stepped into his space until they were flush against each other.

"Hi there, pretty boy," Tormund whispered on a low tone.

"Shut up and kiss me," Jon growled, his cheeks still wet with tears of joy.

Their lips met in a kiss of celebration, unapologetic in their enthusiasm, Tormund's hand clenched into Jon's hair as it cradled his head, Jon's own two hands cupping Tormund's face, until they had to step away from each other long enough to get on stage.

If he had to pick one moment from the evening, then Jon would remember this, the weight of the mask shared with Ygritte as they both lifted the Award in victory, and the warmth of Tormund's hand not leaving his own as the whole auditorium erupted into cheers.

  


  


When they got home to Ghost, staggering on their feet with exhaustion but both beaming, they didn't even take off their clothes before going to bed, collapsing instead onto a heap on top of the blankets. They just had enough energy left to remember that they should take a picture together, Tormund lifting his phone to aim at their heads touching on the pillow, black curls and red hair, twin sleepy smiles on their lips, and he published it on Instagram with a few words: _To professional and personal victories. To love_.

They woke up the next morning, each with dozens of missed calls from their respective agent whom they really, really didn't want to call back. Jon also had a text from Arya, that read _You're trending!_ without any warning so he guessed he would be fine if he checked Twitter... and he was quick to find the hashtag.

#JonmundIsLove

Jon smiled, both at the loud kiss Tormund placed on his cheek and the hashtag that had been used: for the first time, it all felt right.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading until the end. I've discussed this with a few people in the comments from the first part so I was wondering if you'd like me to write some scenes from _Infiltration_ so you can actually read about the movie? If so, I'll try to write them asap and publish them as a third, extra chapter. Thoughts? Thanks again for reading!


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